Storm of Iron
by TDX
Summary: the world of Warhammer 40k is a dark brutal blace. it is here i place familiar hereos. this is Magneto's story


Strom of Iron

From deep space the world of Novas Los was a sparkling jewel against the black velvet backdrop of the void. As you drew nearer the blue green orb camouflaged its apocalyptical change.  It wasn't until you could taste its foul air and see the shattered remains of its cities that you saw it was a haven for the denizens of darkness.

Novas Los fall from grace had been meticulous and calculating. The Chaos infested governing council slowly fed their ruinations into the entire population with Talos Voss overseeing it all. He orchestrated the initial taint and now reaped the twisted fruit he'd sown.

From Novas Magnificent, the world's capital city, he conducted his perverse worship. It was there that insidious evil now raged in a hideous torrent as it washed out over the planet with the emissaries of his chaos gods riding the crashing waves. Now Novas Los was a hell worse than any preacher's sermon. But for those born into it, it was perversely normal.

Eric Lehnsherr walked with a look of detestation in his brown eyes. He ran his scared, bleeding fingers through his filthy white hair adding crimson to the other grit and grime staining it. He was clothed in the shabby black pants and shirt he'd worn for the last two weeks. His feet were bare; his shoes having passed beyond repair months ago, they were just as bloody and sore as his hands. 

As he walked he thought how appropriately the walled in section of city had been named: Dead Town. A charnel house stench permeated the broken buildings of the ruined cityscape. 

Once, Dead Town was a thriving business district with rows of shops of each side of the street. If he concentrated he could recall the stories of shopkeepers who'd be calling their goodbyes as they closed down for the night. They were gone now to become things of legend that parents told to encourage children.  

He hated life. No. More accurately he hated those who had conscripted his life into slavery. It was a rough two week shift in the mines. He didn't know why they had him digging and he didn't care. It was brutal work but still better that working inside the Palace of Hate; that was a fate equal to death. 

The Palace of Hate still resembled the High Imperial Church of the Emperor on the outside but with in its steepled structure dwelled unspeakable things. Slaves that entered its fifteen meters high, golden doors rarely returned and those that did came back with broken minds; unable to do more that scream in terror before their voices or hearts gave out.

He quickened his pace as the shadows moved in to gobble up the space left by the retreating sun. He made a weak smile as his mind he neared home, his thoughts flowing to Magda, his wife. Though they hadn't had an official ceremony, he loved her more than anything. He often teased her that he'd make an honest woman out of her once the occupation was over. 

His hands began to ache and burn as he rounded the final corner to his house. It wasn't a house so to speak it was a room where an office building collapsed on its side. Eric was lucky he'd found the place. It was out of the elements and didn't leak too bad when it rained. 

As if the fate wanted to remind him of his luck, a clap of thunder echoed though the broken streets and he looked up to see dark clouds rolling in. It was going to be a long stormy night. He stopped in his tracks as three men in black and red battle dress approached him.

He bowed his head and stepped out of their way, moving to the side of the small alley. Vulgar and perverse cursing flowed from their mouths punctuated with fits of laughter. Eric could smell the biting scent of alcohol and heavy aroma of narco-sticks on them as they passed.

Cult soldiers, they came into Dead Town looking for cheap fun. Then the thought of Magda home alone sent ice spilling through his heart. 

"Magda!" He called stepping though the opening that once served as the buildings window. "Magda, where are."

His question caught in his throat when he saw the makeshift door lying on the floor; kicked off its hinges. 

"I am here Eric." A voice answered from the back of the room. 

"Are you all right?" he asked reaching for the lantern on the table by the door.

"Please don't." she pleaded. "I don't want you to see me like this."

"But."

"Please Eric. I'm begging you. Just replace the door then come to me. I need you."  

"Very well." He said.

Lighting flashed and for the briefest of moments he saw the whole room. Magda curled up in a ball in the back corner where they slept with the remains of her tattered dress scattered around her. 

Her body trembled under the touch of his cracked hands as his blood mingled with hers. He just held her close with out a word being spoken. The same way she'd done the night when the Cult Soldiers came to have sport with him.

******

A tapestry of skin covered the walls moving in time with some hidden drumbeat; every shade and texture from new born to ancient. Talos Voss enjoyed watching his artwork. It was a pleasure that neared making it. He breathed deep and whatever served as a nose on his bloated, puss filled body took in the scent of roasting human flesh. 

"Destiny!" He screamed from his throne of sickly green colored skulls. The very walls recoiled at his voice.

The heavy stone doors to his throne room opened with the sound of dying man's last breath. Soundlessly she entered dressed in her puss yellow robe. Once she was the chief navigator for House Voss; a position to be coveted. Now she was thrice touched indentured servant to blasphemy. Her face was eternally hidden by a tarnished gold plate that was a mockery of her former features; four rivets firmly fixed it to her skull.

"Yes, my lord." She said her voice near a whisper. 

"I feel something has changed! What do you see?" he asked staring at her with blood filled orbs. 

"What you sense is a calming of the raging storms." She explained. "The Lord of Terra has taken this advantage to send his minions."

There was a deep rumbling the seemed to come from the foundation itself. Voss had assumed that the Warp Storms his master erected would last a thousand generations at least.

"How long?" he bellowed. 

"Six or seven weeks." She replied. 

"No. How can this be?"

"Perhaps your master wishes you to prove yourself in battle."

"That must be it." he replied uneasily. "The Master needs new souls. I will provide a pyre the entire universe will see."

Just as quietly as she entered she left; leaving her Voss alone with his thoughts. He had been placated with the story of the returning imperials; never suspecting that a more immediate threat loomed near. Beneath her gold mask the woman known as Destiny smiled. She had endured the unspeakable and even the Chaos gods themselves wouldn't be spared her wrath. The time was getting close.  

*******

Holding sweet Magda in his arms made sleep came quickly. He found himself bodily transported to a field of green grass. He looked down at his hand and they were pristine as was his clothes and shoes. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of Lastfer trees as they readied their fruit for harvest. This was Nova Los before the fall. He knew he was dreaming but he didn't care; if only to enjoy a moments rest from the resplendent torture that was his waking life. 

He heard a woman's voice wafting on the gentle summer's breeze and chased after it. Dashing through the waist high grass he came upon a hidden cove. The water was beautiful; crystal blue in color. Bathing in it was his beloved Magda. Her long jet black hair covered the more personal parts of her soft ivory colored skin. She looked up and saw him.

He looked away, ashamed a lusting his own wife. She called to him. Mustering all his courage he started toward her calling his "I love you's". That's when he saw it; a thick black sludge floating on the water like oil. 

It slid across the surface like a thing possessed. He screamed for her to get out of water but she didn't hear him. He ran for her but corpse hands reached from the ground grabbing him. They held him down as the sludge reached his wife. The thing took the form of a man and attacked her. She called out to him screaming his name.

Magnus tried to look away but the hands holding him wouldn't allow it. He was forced to witness it all. It started to rain and he felt the chill of the wind and the cries it carried. The men had returned. Two of them held him firm as the third used his knife quite her for the last time.

The room was alive with the laughter of Cult Soldiers. Magnus didn't hear them. All his senses focused on the crumpled form of his wife. A thick pool of scarlet diluted itself into the pools of water on the floor. Magnus felt his very sanity seeping away with her blood. As it did he heard a woman's voice.

"Kill them." It whispered. He had heard this voice many times during his time in the mines. He had always dismissed it a chink in his good sense. Now he felt compelled to obey.

The cultist didn't know why Destiny kept ordering them to attack this particular couple but it didn't matter. They'd have done it anyway. It was fun. Suddenly they felt a charge of electricity in the air and the hairs on their arms stood up.

Dennis, the one standing by Magda's body was the first to die with a pipe impaled through his face. Even as his life gushed out the open end of the pipe his cohorts joined him; each with their own spigots.

Magnus stood in the slaughter house awash with energy. He felt power unimagined flooding him. It was living thing as he saw it with eyes not mortal. His mind strained to comprehend the strange images he was seeing and feeling.

In his heart, down deep where the soul lies, he knew it was magnetic fields. He was seeing the magnetic fields that every living thing generated even those of Nova Los. It was beautiful, more spectacular than any human had a right to see. 

He wasn't human. He couldn't be. He'd come to that conclusion and accepted it a matter of heart beats. He was no more human than those things that had conquered his world were. That's when he remembered the woman's voice. 

He stepped out into the storm. He was drenched to the bone. With but a flicker of his mind his ratty clothes were ripped away. He stretched out his hand and an iron girder was wrenched from a near by building. 

He eyed the beam as it floated in front him. It broke down into a cloud of metal dust solely because he wished it to. The dust stuck to his skin forming an arm and gauntlet of his soon to be suit of armor. Minutes later he was encased in a crimson armor. But he needed a helmet. 

Eyeing the dead cultist, he called out with his power. Seconds later a red-black orb, formed from the iron in their bodies, floated before him. 

"Fitting." He said as the helmet encased his head forming the visage of vengeance.

"Destiny!" Voss screamed. 

She entered the same as before. 

"I feel something. Something's wrong. Tell me what it is."

"An uprising in Dead Town." She explained. "I have sent a squad of your best soldiers to deal with it."

"Is that it? I feel something strong."

"Do not fret yourself my lord." She said. "I have new slaves that would make a perfect addition to your tapestry."

"Then by all means send them in." he replied with a smile in his voice.

Destiny exited allowing the twenty member chain gang to enter the throne room. Voss scarlet eyes played over each one as he considered where he would place their skins. A greater lord would be building up his troops in preparation of the impending Imperial invasion. Voss had no such illusions that he could win a war with the Imperials. Nova Los had been won by guile not by gun. He hoped that if he spread enough misery and destruction that he would be granted a measure of power as a reward from his master. 

One of the captives shriek as his blade servitor climbed down from the ceiling. It had the head and torso of a small child with spider like metal legs. Thin metal arms tipped with a myriad array of knives clicked and whirred as it moved closer. 

Voss always enjoyed this. It was a surreal sight to see a toddler expertly unsheathe people. His play time was cut short by an explosion. 

*******

The fierce crack of bolters sung a duet with the claps of thunder. A cultist manning a gun tower drew a bead on the man walking down the street. Who would dare be so bold? It didn't matter in a second it would over. 

The heavy bolter's adamantine shells raced after the man in the scarlet armor but never reached their target. The shells stopped a full meter before hitting their mark and reversed back on themselves. The tower blew up in the hail of its own fire. Other's foolishly rushed to their death. Magnus neither showed quarter nor asked any in return.

His march ended at the steps of the Palace of Hate leaving death in his wake.

He considered pushing the door open but thought better. Even with his power he didn't desire to enter the place. Besides he didn't have to. Not when the very metal holding it together was his to command. 

With an after thought his vision changed; he could see the magnetic resonance image of the entire structure. Even still it was unsettling. He had to fight a wave a nausea to find what he was looking for; the throne room of Talos Voss.

*********

  "Destiny!" Voss shouted but she didn't come. There was definitely something going on. Where was she? Why wasn't she answering him? 

He called for her again and it hit him like ton of bricks. Destiny had betrayed him. She had gone over to the slaves. No, that didn't make sense. They hated her as much as they hatred him, he'd made sure of it. Then what? Had she sold herself to another dark god? Did she serve a different master that his own? He was lost in his attempt to unravel the plot against him when his blade servitor plunged its arms inside him. 

Reaching down to the bedrock, Magnus yanked the building from its foundation. The Palace of Hate yawed like a dying animal as it imploded. When the dust cleared Magnus was gone. 

******

Epilogue 1: Two Weeks Later:

Magnus lay in the grass under the cooling shade of a Lastfer tree. With his powers he had found one place on the whole world that had remained untouched by the madness of Talos Voss. It was here he had buried Magda and it was here he considered the rest of his life. 

"You are a hard man to find." A voice spoke softly. Instantly Magnus was on his feet and covered in his armor. "I mean you no harm my lord."

"Who are you?" He asked studying her. She was dressed in a bright green body suit with a translucent yellow cloak with flowing black hair and warm brown eyes. She instantly reminded him of his departed. 

"I am Queen Delacroix." She spoke in a soft whisper. "I've come to ask a favor of you."

He had heard of the Delacroix Dynasty that ruled in the far north across the sea.

"What does a Queen need with a man like me?" he asked bowing. 

"The world is in disarray." She answered softly. "We need a leader."

"Let the people elect a new Council of Rulers." He said with bitterness in his voice.

"The Council of Rulers failed us." She replied speaking his thoughts. "It was they that released the horror of Voss on the people. If we are to survive we need a strong man to lead us; one with a desire to protect the people and the power to do so."

"You wish for me to be this man?" Magnus asked brushing a white lock from his face.

"We do." she answered. "Who better to lead us than the man who freed us."

"How did you."

"I have my sources." She said simply. "I'm willing to back you with my entire nation, such as it is."

"Leader of the entire world." He thought out loud. 

"For starters my lord." She added bowing to him.

"One moment." Magnus said. 

He walked back to his wife's grave and knelled down. 

"I promise you that what happened to us and our world will never happen again." he swore. "Nova Los will not bow to anyone again. So long as I draw breath we will be free."

He kissed his hand and touched it to Magda's make shift gravestone. Then he returned to Queen Delacroix.

"Come let us introduce the people to their new lord." He said lacing his arm through hers. "Let us introduce them to Magneto." 

Epilogue 2: Three Weeks later 

The Imperial Dreadnought Matchless Faith sped through the Empyrean. On its spotless command deck First Officer Peter Rasputin watched the lesser officers scurrying about tending their duties.

"How long now." He asked with his deep voice. 

"Another Four weeks yet." An anonymous officer answered. They were all faceless to Peter. He carried a superior air that was unbearable even for a naval officer. 

"Too long." He voiced. "If I was captain I'd."

"But you ain't captain yet are you?" Captain Nicolas Fury replied as his command chair rose from the floor. 

"No sir." Peter replied frowning in shame at the captain's rebuke. 

"Peter you're going to make a good captain some day." Captain Fury added. "But you've got to learn some humility and patience. What's your hurry to get to some back water planet?"

"I don't know." Peter replied. "I feel my destiny is waiting for me there."

Captain Fury smiled at his officer. Oh to be young again.

"You heard the man." Captain Fury bellowed. "I want all engines at full strength. Let's see if we can shave a few days off our trip."


End file.
